


Danger

by stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 16:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30007869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: Max hears something in the record the Major loves that even Charles is oblivious to.
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Kudos: 6





	Danger

Often as he twits the young Corporal about his intelligence (lack of education, really - Max is quite bright), it is easy to forget how penetrating his mind can be, how very capable he is of on-the-nose insights. 

“Ya okay, Major?” Klinger asks as he sorts mail that has ridden in a leaking mail bag; the damp paper seems intent on bonding one piece to another… and Max doesn’t want reamed out by Captain Hunnicutt because some part of his wife’s precious words were lost or made illegible (even if the weather isn’t actually his fault). 

Charles has a notepad on his knee and articles spread before him on his desk. He’s making a sort of program to keep up with medical articles and discoveries in the States, not wanting to lose a step just because he’s had the horrible misfortune to be plunked down in this backwater for what is quickly becoming an eternity. Let no one say he’s incapable of turning bad fortune to good! Winchester that he is, the Major fully intends to emerge from this ordeal  _ more _ skillful than when he was assigned, ready to take his place at the head of a hospital in New England. He cannot wait to have his eyes half-blinded by the pure white expanse of hospital sheets, to work under the actual halogen lights proper to a surgeon! 

Reigning his thoughts away from a future that seems very distant indeed, he turns to Klinger. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

Max jerks his head toward the onyx blur made by the spinning vinyl, material seeming to go almost liquid beneath the needle tracing its orbit. “Been playing a lot of… I dunno the right thing ta call them. Hunting songs.”

Charles chuckles. “ _ Hunting songs _ !?”

“Yeah. They make you feel like somethin’s coming after you, right on your heels, breathing down your neck.” His eyes go wide, questioning. “Don’t they?” 

When an immediate answer is not forthcoming (Charles is very deep in thought), Max looks embarrassed that he spoke at all. He dips his head and goes back to shuffling letters. He should have known better, he thinks. He isn’t educated about music - why would the Major care what he thought he heard in it? 

“Hunting songs,” Charles repeats, eyes staring away. There  _ are _ horns. In his mind, a white doe - creature of legend, desired above all other quarry, darts over the red, flower-dotted landscape of medieval tapestries. Branching horns - the war-webs of stags - cannot save her; blood already speckles her flanks. He thinks of those gory passages of  _ Gawain and the Green Knight: “ _ the wild creatures quake/ They bleat amd they bleed as they die on the bank” and of  _ Beowulf _ : “On its bank the heather-stepper halts/ The hart in flight from pursuing hounds/ Will turn and face them with firm-set horns / And die in the woods.” 

“You are - you are quite right, Maxwell.”  _ I feel hunted here. In danger. Always.  _ “How on Earth did you notice such a thing?” 

The younger man’s gaze is steady as he says, “Notice  _ you _ . What would it take to make you feel safer? I mean, none of us does for real - but is there something that would help?” He offers a small grin - like holding up a match to light his way. “So you can listen to other stuff, maybe? Too?” 

“My dear, I think that you already have.”

The endearment makes a pleasing color come into his cheeks. “Huh?”

“You have shown me that someone sees me as something beyond a pair of hands to be utilized. You have made me feel less alone. It has been… it has been some time since I felt thus.” 

“Oh. Well, good then. Fewer horns now?”

Charles stands and quiets them. “Max, since you seem to have an ear for it, would you care to learn about music?”

“From you? Yeah. But maybe could start with something brighter? Happier?”

Charles knows he means: something that will make us feel safe. “Of course we can.” He happily reaches for a new record - and Max smiles up to his pretty eyes.

End!


End file.
